Disney Chills: If The Shoe Fits

Skin Deep

The gloss wand glided over Cynthia's lips as it added a coat of shiny pink. As she put the wand back into the tube, she stared back at her reflection. Her dad always said that for someone who constantly complained that she was unhappy with her looks, she spent a lot of time looking at herself in the mirror.

Her dad just didn't get it. Her lack of looks was the reason she spent so much time looking in the mirror.

Every day, when she looked at her reflection, she would see every flaw and imperfection glaring back at her. It was impossible not to notice them. Her lips were too thin. Her skin looked dry and cracked. Her chin was way too big and square at the end, her ears stuck out on the sides, and her eyes and nose were much too small. The list went on and on.

Cynthia picked up her hairbrush to comb her hair, which was another thing she hated about herself. It was frizzy and dull, no matter how many products she used to add smoothness and shine. It was also a blondish color, which should have been nice, but it was ashy blonde with streaks of brown and black, like someone had sprinkled ashes and dirt into it, not like the gorgeous buttery gold like all the pretty girls in fairytales.

Cynthia tried to compensate for her lack of physical beauty by wearing designer clothes and jewelry.  Everything in her closet came from a high-end store. Luckily, her dad made a lot of money, so she could afford to always stay on top of the latest trends. It was hard enough to find cute outfits that she felt properly hid the little bulge in her belly and didn't draw attention to her flat chest, but she always managed to snag some good finds at the stores.

She also always wore a lot of makeup. Cynthia never left her house without covering her face with all sorts of products, coating her skin from simple base to the colorful shades she put on her cheeks, lips and eyelids. She even wore face masks at night and dabbed her face with expensive pimple creams and lotions. While she avoided breakouts, it didn't do much to enhance what she had.  Even though she tried to hide her flaws with cosmetics and always wore the hottest styles to make up for what she sorely missed, there were all too often times when Cynthia felt like it just wasn't enough.

Thump!  Thump!  Thump!

A loud banging came from outside the bathroom, where Cynthia was preparing for the first day of the school's second semester, interrupting her train of thoughts, which were basically one big pity party.

"Cynthia! Come on, I need the bathroom!"

Cynthia sighed at the new voice. Well, it wasn't exactly new, but it was new enough.

A year-and-a-half ago, Cynthia's dad met a woman named Mary. Mary was a widow who lived in the next town, where she worked as a cleaning lady to a rich family. Cynthia's father, a rich businessman, had been enchanted by Mary. They started dating, and after a year, he proposed.

Cynthia had met Mary a few months after the start of their relationship. She seemed nice enough, showing interest in Cynthia, asking about her interests, her passions, her friends (She had been quite embarrassed when Cynthia had to inform her that she didn't really have any friends). It was only after her dad popped the question that Cynthia found out that Mary had a daughter of her own from her late husband.

Anastasia Perrault, or Stacie for short, as she preferred to be called.

She was the same age as Cynthia, both of them having just turned fourteen. They met for the first time at their parents' engagement party. They had treated each other politely, talking and getting to know one another. Soon after, about three months ago in fact, the wedding happened, with both daughters serving as junior bridesmaids, and once the honeymoon was over, Mary and Stacie moved into town with Cynthia and her dad, much to Cynthia's dismay. She was actually hoping that maybe she could move to Mary's town, transfer schools and get a fresh new start, one where no one knew her as Cynthia the Love Bug, from when she had decided it would be a good idea to confess to a boy she liked by reading a love poem to him for fourth-grade English class.